


(These Precious Things)In My Hands.

by Reddwarfer



Category: Stargate:Atlants
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Anal Sex, Barebacking, Dark, Dom/sub, Extremely Dubious Consent, Kidnapping, Knifeplay, M/M, Mindfuck, Missions Gone Wrong, Oral Sex, Rimming, Rough Sex, Unreliable Narrator, mentioned Jennifer/Rodney
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-26
Updated: 2020-07-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:55:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25518412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reddwarfer/pseuds/Reddwarfer
Summary: "What Rodney really needs is to see John with his own eyes, touch him with his own hands, and know—really know—that John's alive and well and not going to disappear without a trace like he did on that godforsaken mission."
Relationships: Rodney McKay/John Sheppard
Comments: 13
Kudos: 23





	(These Precious Things)In My Hands.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally Written: 6/16/2010
> 
> Beta written by: Busaikko
> 
> Let me know if I need to add more tags.

When they finally get John back, he's not the same. Not that Rodney expects him to be, but he's a little more worried than all the other times John's been kidnapped and tortured. And, quite frankly, he's tired of all these people in this galaxy who think they can keep John for themselves, to marry him, procreate with him, or use him as an on/off switch.

Despite the walking horror show John presents—and Rodney really is grateful most of the blood belonged to the assholes that took him—his stay in the infirmary is surprisingly short. Which Rodney only learns when he goes to visit him and finds nothing but cranky nurses and empty beds. He doesn't feel very reassured by Keller, who tells him John's been discharged for hours. It annoys him even more since he's not been allowed to see him _at all_. Ronon and Teyla had dragged him bodily from the infirmary, yelling at the curtains, and tried to force him to eat and sleep before he slips away and sneaks back.

What Rodney really needs is to see John with his own eyes, touch him with his own hands, and know—really know—that John's alive and well and not going to disappear without a trace like he did on that godforsaken mission.

Rodney is still on light duty because of how very wrong things went and not the least because his only focus has been on finding John since then. None of the really bad missions start that way. They always have the annoying tendency to start easy, pleasant even, and turn to absolute shit in a heartbeat. When he closes his eyes, he can still see John pushing him into the woods after escaping from those fucks, finding Teyla and Ronon, feeling sharp relief when they got to the gate and the way it evaporated when he turned and John wasn't behind them.

It's a bit of a shock to Rodney when he returns to his quarters, unsuccessful, and finds John there of all places, lounging at his desk. He looks exhausted, but without any notable disfigurements from the twenty yard walk, a feat Rodney seriously wonders how he manages. It's like Rodney's lungs can function again, for the first time in weeks.

″What are you doing here?″ Rodney asks after a few seconds of just staring at John's face. ″Not that you're not welcome...″ He trails off because, somehow, in the few weeks John's been missing, he's forgotten how to speak to him, or anyone without either yelling or snapping.

Rodney moves completely into John's space and wants all these awful things he's been feeling to disappear. John's one of the few people in his life he'll do anything for, risk everything. He has no idea how to handle him because John feels different now, and he's not sure what to do about it.

John smiles like it hurts and lets Rodney fret all around him, but says nothing to quell his nerves.

″I'll do whatever you want, all right? Just don't do that to me again,″ Rodney says finally, needing to voice this before he goes insane. John can't keep doing this to him, risking his life so recklessly and actually dying isn't an alternative Rodney's willing to consider.

″Keller,″ John says, strangely, and Rodney wonders what the hell he means before John continues, ″Break up with her.″

Rodney sputters for a moment, feeling unaccountably angry and confused when John stands up from the chair and inches so close that Rodney can feel the heat of John's breath on his face. ″I want you to. For me,″ he adds, as if this will some how convince Rodney.

It does. Those two words have power over him like nothing else.

John stays for the rest of the night and they watch movies together on Rodney's laptop. It's different, now, because they're side by side on Rodney's bed, not a millimeter between them, and when John laughs, Rodney can feel the heat of it on his skin. John doesn't seem in any hurry to leave that night, and it's never been like this before.

"It's getting late," Rodney manages after the last movie ends. John turns to him, stares for a moment, and smiles a little and says, "Yeah, it is."

Then John takes his shirt off, tosses it on the floor, and lies down on the bed, tugging Rodney down with him. "What?" Rodney manages, but John thinks the lights off and Rodney's really too tired to fight anymore. He lets John curl around him, lets John hold him, and lets John drive the thought of everyone and everything out of his mind.

Rodney feels a strong pang of self-loathing as he awkwardly waits for Jennifer to open her door early the next morning. He stares at the floor of her room, instead of her baffled expression, and continues to babble in its direction about John needing him and all about the work he has and about all the time he doesn't. When he manages to look up at her, her mouth is pinched and unhappy and completely resigned like she was expecting this long before now, but she nods wordlessly as the door opens up behind him.

He takes the hint and leaves. He goes to work, even though he's tired and distracted, and loses himself in the myriad of things he can do without actively giving his full attention. Though, there is the project on his laptop; he can start them on it today. He doesn't remember pulling some of the designations up, but most of the last week is a drug-induced haze.

Radek smiles at him wanly, as if knowing his mind is elsewhere, but doesn't even call him on it. Too many days with stims, followed by days of sneaking them after Keller cut them off, and they're both a little too raw. Radek seems better, though, and it makes Rodney wonder if he's worse than he thinks.

"Are there any plans for today?" Radek asks casually. Their research schedule is in tatters, but there's usually never enough time to mourn that fact.

Rodney waves his hand toward the console. "Oh, there are twenty or so off-world laboratories that have various projects I want to look at. Actually, I'm sure there are more than that. The filing system they have is criminal. But these may have practical applications. At least according to my search algorithm."

After a while, he gets his brain to stop remembering things he'd rather forget, and hears Radek swearing to himself. "These Ancients, I cannot believe..."

"What?" Rodney asks, more polite reflex than curious. "My database project? There's a reason I forced you to help me with it. Spread the misery."

Scowling, Radek points at his tablet. "They think there are no lines. Wraith worshipers, a problem yes. I understand. Still, there is a better way to deal with it than this. Than trying to control them through another person."

Rodney looks over. More genetic manipulation. A few off-site facilities house the mechanics. Figures. "Are you really that surprised after all these years?"

"Ah, no," Radek replies, hesitantly. "It's not surprise so much as concern. This affected both parties in extreme ways. There are many more pages detailing the permanent damages. I would not wish for it to get into the wrong hands. Any hands would be the wrong hands."

Nodding, Rodney gets it, understands. There's not much the Ancients have done that hasn't had some sort of catastrophic result due to what Rodney feels was genetically inherent megalomania. "Erase it from the databases. You know the military," Rodney says scathingly. "They'll think they can fix it, control it. They'll make us fix it and I don't trust them at all."

Radek's hands are already a flurry over the keyboards. It's not the first time they've deleted files. Radek understands things that other scientists don't. To most of them, it's all just theoretical data. Radek knows it goes beyond that. He doesn't need to be told about the way governments are always looking for the next easy way to make the best soldier and the best information. Radek sighs, looking tired just thinking about it. Rodney digs around in his desk and pulls out a bar of chocolate and tosses it over to him. Radek looks surprised, but pleased. He doesn't say thanks because that would mean Rodney's being nice. And Rodney's never nice.

The day seems to drag and the longer it lasts, the more thoughts he has about this morning with John, with Jennifer, with his brain being utterly useless. It's not until he almost deletes a simulation he spent a few hours setting up that he realizes he needs to get his act together.

"Just go. You are not here," Radek says, impatient and worried all at once. "It is okay. I will keep the morons at bay."

Rodney feels ridiculously grateful and says as much to Radek, which surprises them both, before he leaves as quickly as possible for his own quarters.

″I can't believe this. I'm insane. I must be. Why did I do that? I need to go explain things, beg her forgiveness, possibly,″ Rodney says to himself. He ponders briefly how strange it was for John to ask in the first place. John's never direct—unless it's about who to shoot and how fast to run—if he can help it. He makes an art of denying himself what he wants and needs and tends to settle for anything close without saying anything about it at all. This is a new, strange John, one he doesn't really understand. Rodney makes up his mind that he needs to fix this whole situation, because that's what he does. He's halfway across the room when the door swishes open.

John's smiling at him, sharp and bright, and it makes Rodney a little nervous. ″I knew I could count on you, Rodney.″

″Yeah, that's me. Dependable.″ Rodney shifts on his feet, wondering what to do or say. All his thoughts and resolve dissipate in an instant. Words don't often fail him, but he feels like he's caught a ride on a crazy train to some bizarro world and has no idea what to expect anymore.

″Good, good,″ John says, and gets impossibly closer. There's only a moment or two for things to click in Rodney's mind before John's kissing him. _Oh..._ is the last thing he manages to think clearly for the next few hours.

When John finally lets him move, Rodney takes inventory of his body. There are fingernail-shaped cuts on his inner thighs, bite marks along the perimeter of his shoulders, and scratches and bruises all over the rest of him. John's asleep, appearing strangely peaceful, and has no marks other than the faded bruises and faint scars that normally decorate his beautiful skin.

Rodney squeezes his eyes closed and wonders how his day started with normalcy and ended up like this. He makes his way gingerly to the shower and loses himself for awhile. He thinks better under the beating spray, and he comes up with at least a dozen things to say to end this insanity.

John's still in bed when Rodney emerges. He blearily opens one eye and offers Rodney a soft smile and an extended hand. Any thoughts of asking John to leave slip away and he thinks his bed is more comfortable with John in it, anyhow.

"If you're not tired," John says, "I can maybe help you with that." A calloused hand runs down his torso and cups his soft dick.

Not that the thought isn't sort of pleasant, but he needs to recover a little first. "I _am_ tired. Sleep sounds good. Great even." John tugs him into his arms, and Rodney's out in less time than it takes John to kiss the back of his neck.

~*~

It takes a little over a week for Rodney to realize that John lives with him now. "Don't you miss solitude? The sudoku books? Or Johnny Cash?"

"I like it fine here," John says, smirking at him. There's a flash of something in his eyes, but Rodney doesn't know what it means. "You want me here."

"Of course I do," Rodney agrees quickly. It's true; he likes it quite a bit. John's the first thing he sees every morning, the last thing he sees at night, and he gets to see him throughout the day as well. John's still on light duty too, for now, and gets to bullshit his way through a few more psych appointments in between going through the backlog of paperwork he normally avoids.

John grins and puts on his pants. Rodney spares a second to think of John's cock and how it felt fucking his face only ten minutes ago. He swallows thickly and grabs his clothes for the day.

"I have to get going. Come by my office later. I have something I want to discus," John says. His eyes are serious despite the playful lasciviousness of his tone. Rodney feels his face heat up a little despite himself.

Nodding, Rodney says, "Sure. Sure. I'll be there. I just have to set my lab monkeys on their work for the day."

Lunch time finds him on his knees again, this time in John's office, thick cock sliding across his tongue, deep in his throat as he desperately tries to listen to what John's telling him. He tries to nod his assent, but John's fingers are tight in his hair, keeping him in place. Rodney's unbearably hard, desperate, and when John shoots in his mouth and all over his face, Rodney comes in his pants, dropping his hands to the floor as he tries to breathe again.

"Rodney," John says, and Rodney looks up, panting, barely noticing the wet come dripping off his cheeks and chin. "I'm trusting you to do this for me."

Snorting, Rodney rolls his eyes. "Of course, Colonel. Although the cock shoved in my mouth prevented me from actually verbally acknowledging you, I assure you my hearing's as good as ever."

"Here," John says, smirking, "let me." And John takes a cloth from his pocket, dips it in a cup of water on his desk, and wipes Rodney's face clean. Rodney kneels and lets John do this, letting himself savor this moment of tender affection so alien to way John usually is with him, with everyone.

"Do you have time to grab lunch with me?" Rodney asks, getting to his feet only after John moves back and nods at him.

Grinning, John tosses the cloth in a desk drawer. "Sure thing."

~*~

"Would you mind joining me this evening, Rodney?" Teyla asks as he's leaving the mess. She's smiling, but looks worn and tired. Torren's probably not sleeping well, Rodney thinks. He's supposed to meet John, but this is Teyla, and he's torn.

Rodney taps his radio. "John, Teyla wants me for an hour. Do you mind if I'm late?"

It's quiet and Rodney's almost sure that John's going to be upset, but there's a cheerful, "Sure, Rodney, in an hour's fine. I'll go bug Ronon some more."

It sounds a bit off to him, but John will let Rodney make it up to him later.

Teyla seems happy, too, which pleases him.

"I know it is not your way to meditate, especially after your experiences here, but I would really appreciate if you would join me this evening. I would consider it a personal favor."

Rodney wants to say no because he hates meditation and not just due to the ascension machine. But, again, it's _Teyla_ and she asks so little of him. "Sure. Sure. If it's important to you."

It's hard to sit still in the room, which is peaceful with the candles and mats and quiet, but his brain doesn't like shutting itself down. "I'm sorry. I'm terrible at this."

"I am not angry with you, Rodney," Teyla says, holding his shoulders and pressing her forehead against his. " I know things have been stressful for you. I just want you to find some peace."

"I'm at peace. Plenty peaceful. If I had any more peace, I'd be a hippie," Rodney rambles. He's not exactly an expert on feelings, but this is screaming 'you broke up with your girlfriend and I want you to talk to me about how you feel' and Rodney really, really doesn't.

Teyla doesn't hold it against him and lets him go back to John early, even if she's still smiling sadly when she does. Rodney knows he doesn't deserve friends like her, but he's grateful for her anyhow.

~*~

Between John's project, Rodney's work, and the never-ending plethora of minor crises that pop up in the most inconvenient times and in the most inconvenient ways, Rodney's in a constant state of low-grade irritation.

Woolsey keeps shooting him strange looks and makes awkward attempts to get Rodney to join him for coffee or lunch. And it's not just him, either. Jennifer gives him these really sad smiles as she asks him to maybe join her for breakfast (if he has the time) or come down to the infirmary (just to catch up), and it's not that he doesn't feel bad for dumping her—he does—he's just not sure what to say to her anymore. Even Radek, in that subtle way of his that's only a hair shy of Rodney's own, asks him how well he's sleeping and if, maybe, Rodney'd like to play chess with him after work. It's really just altogether unnerving.

But he gets the picture. They want him back on back on his old schedule, back on the gate teams, back to yelling at the morons after they screw their jobs up in his lab instead of him cutting corners just doing everything right himself the first time.

"If our team agrees to go back on the roster, will you stop your hovering?" Rodney asks in exasperation the next time Woolsey corners him for tea and oh-so-scintillating conversation he can't find anywhere else, owing to the lack of accountants in the Pegasus Galaxy.

Woosley blinks and then smiles awkwardly at being caught out. "Yes. Yes. I will talk to Colonel Sheppard and see if he's ready as well."

"Great," Rodney says, and hurries off. He has the next half-hour set aside for John's project before he needs to get back to discuss schedules for the lab with Radek.

"We're going back on missions," John says that evening. Rodney nods absently, trying to recall where his spare, mission-only powerbars are stashed. "Rodney," John curls around him," let me..."

Rodney turns and stares at John's face in the dim light. He's unhappy, Rodney guesses, but he doesn't understand why. John loves going on missions and he's been whining about being bored for days. Normal people might be antsy, but John never acts the way he's supposed to and Rodney's long since gotten used to John brushing off bad missions like crumbs on his shirt. "What--" _is wrong and why aren't you thrilled to go tromping through the overgrowth smiling your dorky smile and pointing your gun at things_ but John's mouth is on his and his words are swallowed up.

"Let me have what I want," John asks as he strips them both and pushes Rodney down on the bed.

Rodney nods, already hard and aching, and says, "Yes, yes. Anything. Anything at all."

The cold steel of the handcuffs bites into his wrists, but he doesn't care. Rodney's knees press into the mattress, thighs straining as he fucks himself on John's lap. His cock is throbbing, untouched, and he desperately wants to stroke himself, but John's got one hand on the links between the cuffs, holding Rodney's hands against his chest. There's a knife in his other hand and he trails the blade down Rodney's chest, over his arms, on his thighs, the lightest flutter over his cock, and back up again until the flat of the blade presses against Rodney's throat. Being afraid of knives feels like a lifetime ago and now it makes him feel safe, kept, and totally John's.

John bites Rodney's shoulder and the nape of his neck, breathes in his ear, whispers, "I fucking _own_ you. You're fucking _mine_ ," as he thrusts up and in and over again, knife making the barest of stings, until Rodney's begging, "Yes, yes, you do, I'm _yours_ , let me come, I love you, Iloveyou, just..I _need_."

John presses Rodney forward, so his head is resting on his cuffed wrists, knife clenched in his fist against the mattress, digging his nails into Rodney's hip with the other. He fucks him, hard, biting his back until all Rodney feels is wet and teeth all over. John takes the knife and presses it against Rodney's throat again and orders, "Come."

And Rodney does, gasping for breath against the pillow. He doesn't know how he's not flat on the bed. His thighs are burning and his knees are sore, but he doesn't break the position. John kisses his shoulder as he tosses the knife on the side table, kisses a bite mark as he pulls out, and kisses the base of Rodney's spine as he spreads Rodney's cheeks and watches the come spill from his ass.

"Rodney," John says, breath hot against the cooling sweat of Rodney's skin. "Are you almost done? What I asked you to do?" he clarifies.

It takes a moment for Rodney's brain to come online again, especially when John starts nibbling at his hole, licking up the path that his come was dripping out of him. "Oh. Uh. Yeah. Of course."

"Good," John says, and continues to flick his tongue inside of Rodney. Rodney moans unabashedly into the pillow, squirming whenever John sporadically bites his ass hard, and dissolves into begging when those teeth graze his perineum and the rim of his anus, John's beard rough against the soft skin.

Thirty minutes of unfruitful begging later, John lays Rodney on his side, tosses his top leg over John's shoulder, grips his thigh, and fucks him again. Rodney almost sobs in relief when John's cock pushes into him again, slow, _slow_ , _so goddamned slow_ , as he kisses the side of Rodney's knee. It feels like it goes on forever and ever and he never wants it to stop.

Rodney's barely awake when John presses his hairy chest against Rodney's back. It's rough and stings a bit, but it feels so good that Rodney only vaguely notices John undoing the cuffs. He doesn't have the energy to clean up, and John's still half-hard inside him, so he lets John pinch his nipples a bit and suck marks lazily on his neck. Rodney falls asleep within minutes.

Work's boring as hell the next day, and Rodney's practically vibrating out of his skin with the need to do _something_ or have the day finish and maybe have John fuck him stupid again.

"Rodney," Radek says, and he turns to find Radek giving him an apologetic smile. "Perhaps you could help me on a project of mine."

Snorting, Rodney stands up and follows. "Well, it's not surprising you had to come crawling to me for help. Not that you're not smart, in your own way, but you're not nearly the level of genius I am."

"Yes, yes, Rodney," Radek says in an infuriatingly patronizing tone. "Without you, we would be lost. But happy. It is a fair trade, yes?"

The project is something his niece could handle, and he raises an eyebrow in Radek's direction. Radek is deliberately focusing on something else. "This is what you need me for? A monkey could handle this...even any one of the morons who work here...on a good day."

"Is this you admitting it is too difficult for you?" Radek throws over his shoulder.

Rodney rolls his eyes and gets to work. "And give up the opportunity to prove you wrong? Again? Never."

Radek laughs, casts what is probably supposed to be a furtive glance over his shoulder, and continues fiddling with a simulation.

~*~

Three days later, Rodney's glee at finally having Radek admit he's not as smart as him is wearing off. He's asked for help on no less than fifteen projects, and the ease of them makes Rodney wonder if he needs to talk to someone about the dwindling capabilities of his second. Still, his team is finally going on a mission the next day, and he's actually looking forward to getting off base.

He's so pleased with the idea of even being on some backwater planet, that he doesn't care when Lorne comes to the office during lunch. Still, Rodney only comes to John's office four times during the day, couldn't he have bothered John at another time?

"Sir," Lorne says in that stilted way of his. "Is it a bad time?"

John sounds pleasant enough when he says, "Nah. What can I help you with?"

Lorne hesitates for a moment, then continues. "I wanted to discuss changing the mission schedule."

They talk about some injured Marine, boring trade agreements, and who needs more time in the field. Rodney lets the quite frankly boring conversation wash over him and focuses on the hand at the back of his neck and the firm press down, and John's cock in his mouth. He's so intent on way John smells, the coarse hair brushing his nose and his cheeks, and the nails digging into his skin, that he doesn't even hear when Lorne finally leaves. John holds him down, fucks his cock up into Rodney's throat until breathing is impossible, and comes when Rodney's vision starts to white out.

Rodney slumps when John lets him pull back and is only a little bit aware of John's foot pressing against the seam of his pants.

The radio call comes just a moment after he does, and he rubs a towel inside of his pants to prevent the wetness from spreading before heading to the infirmary. He had forgotten all about pre-mission physicals and how they always tended to happen when he was in the middle of something important.

Keller gives him an impatient look when he finally arrives. "Come on, shirt off and up on the table."

Rodney strips off his shirt and is surprised when Keller lets out a short gasp. "What? What is it?"

"Rodney," Keller approaches him slowly. "Are you...are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Rodney snaps. "Why wouldn't I be? Can we get this over with? I have important things to get back to and Radek's been useless lately."

"Sure," Keller nods, but her voice is strained. Rodney winces because treating your ex is probably just as awkward as getting treated by them. He feels a pinch on his arm, and turns, but the room is suddenly too heavy and he closes his eyes.

"Rodney." He hears a voice calling and only has five seconds of peace before he realizes that he's in bed, and he's _alone_ and John's _not there_.

He opens his eyes, blinking against the bright lights, and demands, "Where's John? John?!"

Keller and Woolsey are both standing there with identical expressions on their faces. They lost him. They look guilty and worried and they must have lost him. "What happened? I'll fix it. I'll find him. Just tell me how you screwed up and I'll find him. I'll get him back."

"Rodney," Keller says, rushing over to him. "You need to calm down. John's fine."

She's _lying_. He knows she is. "If he's fine, then why isn't he here? John!"

"If you don't stop fighting and calm down, I'm going to have to sedate you again."

"How can I calm down? Where's John? He needs me," Rodney yanks his arm away from her. "Listen, he needs me!"

He's so busy focusing on her unhappy face and her lies that he doesn't so much as see but feel another prick. "Goddamn it."

The room's tilting again and he can hear someone yelling at someone else to find someone right now, damn it, but he's too out of it to hear the details.

When he wakes a second time, the room's dark and it's late. His head is killing him and he feels strange, confused, and stretched thin. "What..."

Keller is over to him in a heartbeat. "Rodney, are you feeling better now?"

"I...I don't know. My head hurts and I'm thirsty and you keep drugging me and I want to know why."

"First things first," Keller says, offering him a cup with a straw. "Better?"

"Marginally, now explain." Rodney's impatient and antsy. He feels like there's a world of things he doesn't know, and he hates that feeling.

"You and Colonel Sheppard have been displaying increasingly unusual behavior. It started right after your team's last mission," Keller begins. He tunes her out, not able to process discussion of his blood work and behavior because then Rodney remembers things he's said, things he's done. The memories are hazy, though, as if through a filter. Part of him knows things aren't right, but it's not enough to quell the rising panic."Where's John?"

"Now, Rodney," Keller says, "I need you to focus on me and not on Colonel Sheppard."

"I can't," he says, voice choking with fear. "I need to find him."

"How about some medicine for your headache?" Keller asks. "Something that'll let you sleep."

"Is John all right?" Rodney asks, ignoring the pain. He can't relax until he knows.

Keller sighs. "He's fine. You can see him after you take your pills and get some rest."

"Promise?" Rodney wants the pain to stop, but he also wants John and he can't decide which he wants more.

Smiling, Keller nods, glances to the left, and says, "I promise."

He takes the pills and another swallow of water and lies back down. Tomorrow, John will be here and everything will be okay again.

~*~

John's face is the first thing Rodney sees when he wakes, and he smiles. His headache's gone and he's not quite sure what caused it in the first place.

"You're awake,"John says.

"Where were you?" Rodney asks, suddenly not tired at all. "I couldn't find you and they wouldn't let me see you."

"You're safe now," John says. "I made sure of it."

It's then that Rodney gets the first look around and notices that they're not in the infirmary. They're not in either of their rooms, either, or anywhere on Atlantis apparently. "Where are we?" he asks, looking around the small room. It's, well, quaint. It's little more than a hovel, but there's a small kitchen, soft candlelight, and little knicknacks decorating the wooden furniture.

John gets him to his feet and they walk outside. It's vaguely familiar to him, this place, and the supplies he's been storing in a Jumper he'd labeled as broken are stacked off to the side. Everything John's asked him to get is here, and Rodney's grateful to him for his forethought and proud John trusted him with his project. "We're in the Sanctuary. We're safe. By the time they find us, it'll be too late. They can't take you away from me again."

"And you," Rodney agrees. John grabs him and gives him a tight hug. He remembers the thousand ways everyone's tried to keep John from him, the panic, the anxiety, wondering if John's going to come home, back to him, and he feels relief, peace. "You're mine. They won't ever take you from me. I won't let them."


End file.
